


One bad night

by imconfusedandgay



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Drunk Simon!AU, Fluff, Fluff I guess, M/M, Simon is hopelessly drunk and baz is hopelessly in love, a LOT of alcohol, alcohol is involved, carry on, i can't write smut for the life of me I'm so sorry, kinda smut, noncon, rainbow rowell, wayward son, who gets on to who first :00
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-06-19 19:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imconfusedandgay/pseuds/imconfusedandgay
Summary: Simon Snow is hopelessly drunk while Baz Pitch is hopelessly in love with him. Also, is it just Simon, or does Baz have really pretty eyes?





	1. Chapter 1 - so so drunk

[Simon, 2:12 am]: bazz  
[Simon:] bAZZY  
[Simon]: bAZBABZBAZGSBBABY  
[Baz, 2:14 am]: You are quite the eloquent one, Snow.  
[Baz:] What could you possibly want this late?  
[Simon]: okAy funny story   
[Baz]: Simon Snow, are you intoxicated?  
[Simon]: shhhhhh let me finish bazzy boy   
[Baz]: Crowley, how drunk are you?  
[Simon]: imagine a flying a horse with wings but with no arms and its upside down  
[Baz]: And?  
[Simon]: nothing just imagine it  
[Baz]: holy fucking shit  
[Simon]: i know isn't it funny ahigushHGSAHHAHA  
[Simon]: baz get this   
[Baz]: Which bar are you in?  
[Simon]: this bulky guy came near me and He Asked if i wanted a drink  
[Simon]: and uh im @   
[Simon]: uh idk  
[Simon]: some club i guess i really dunnnnno  
[Simon]: so anyway bulky guy gave me a drink and it really led me to woNDER   
[Simon]: he reminded me of that other boy you kissed last night at the party at agatha's  
[Baz, 2:15 am]: Crowley, remind me what happened last night that got you this shitfaced.  
[Simon]: IHUBGVIHB that BOY YOU KISSED BAZ   
[Simon]: spin the bottle   
[Simon]: remember   
[Simon]: the boy spinnnned it and it pointed to you and you smirked like you were e made of trouble and yoU took him by the chin with your finger and kissed the loving ever god living shit out of him and he was smiling baz and you looked pretty   
[Simon]: pretty neat   
[Simon]: nah fuck that shit you're beautiful babyyyyy  
[Simon]: and but the bo y   
[Simon]: and bu t the boy w as smiling through your lips and fuck i could still se e it  
[Baz, 2:16 am]: Simon is that bulky guy still near you?  
[Simon]: yeah but he took off to god knows where and he told me he'll be ri g ht backkcj  
[Simon]: fuck   
[Simon]: i gottttta question for ya bitch boy   
[Simon]: did you llike it  
[Baz]: like what?  
[Simon]: don't be fuckibggg dense baz, the boy who kissed you 1!1!  
[Simon]: did you like it ??  
[Baz, 2:17am]: i think i know where you are.  
[Baz]: Just stay put and i'll come and get you.  
[Simon]: i bet you liked it   
[Baz]: Bet on what you want to, Snow.   
[Simon]: i bet y0u want to kiss him again  
[Simon]: baz i fuckcing hate you  
[Baz]: Don't go anywhere.   
[Simon]: aye aye captaIN  
[Baz]: Simon,  
[Baz]: Don't go near that bulky guy either.  
[Baz, 2:17am]: And Simon?  
[Simon]: right here babsbe  
[Baz, 2:18 am]: You have the intellectual of a fucking goat.


	2. chapter 2 - punch him ti'll he falls

I was filming the group assignment in the dorm room for potions class when Simon texted. When i got the first few messages i kind of figured he was dared to text me, so i minded my own damn business. Until the situation became my business, until my one top priority became Simon and his stupidity. 

I have to babysit the fucking Chosen one. And the Chosen one called me beautiful. and a babe. (Or at least in Simon's case he tried to spell that one out.)

I don't know what to think. Or feel.

But i do know what to do. The nearest bar i know is the cupids shot bar -- all the watford teenagers go there on Fridays or Saturdays (Sunday's when they're feeling that low) and its a 5 minute walk from Watford. 

I soon find myself jogging towards the bar, hoping to a god i don't even believe in that Simon didn't do anything he'd normally do. Which is something inconceivably stupid. Obviously. That one's a given. 

Crowley, he's so fucking stupid.  
Fucking hopeless idiot. 

Im running now, and i still don't know what to think. Or feel. 

\--  
Once I reach my destination, i fish for the bottle of cologne from inside my jean pocket. I changed out of my school uniform a while ago -- what do you wear when you're going to save your longtime crush from poisoning themselves with too much vodka? The answer is jeans and a plain green shirt. I also tied my hair into a bun for good measure. I spray the bottle of cologne on my neck and wrists -- its cedar and bergamot. A personal favourite. I walk into the bar and a few people glance my way, some boys and some girls. If i weren't in love with Simon Snow i could have been the worlds greatest play boy. People would have made legends about me.

The bar smells like any regular old bar. I spot a few students i’ve seen walking past by the Watford hallways. Theres strangers kissing, others drinking their sanity away, and a giant crowd of dancing and sweating bodies in the centre of the room, letting their limbs run free with the blaring music. I pray that Simon isnt one of those bodies and thats when i spot him: sitting on the bar stool, his phone on his hand and a shot of god knows what on another. In just a second he downs that shit and places the empty glass on the countertop, his head hanging low. 

He's a mess.

Well, at this point theres one thing to be grateful for: he's also alone. I search the perimeter of the room. No bulky guy. That's good. Splendid. Saving the Chosen one would be easier for me then. 

And then of course theres another thing to keep in mind: The Chosen one is drunk. Drunk senseless. Shit for sense, and since the chosen one happens to be Simon Snow, who naturally has a shit sense, this just means his stupidity is maximised by all that alcohol. I have a strong feeling that this night would be the bane of my entire existence. 

I walk towards the monstrosity that is Simon Snow, and every step i take towards him feels like a sort of vindication. 

I still don't know what to feel.

Crowley, I just wanted to film my group project in peace. I know, I know, i've done terrible things that could amount to this much karma, and karma is the biggest living asshole there is but god did it have to be me?

and then i see him. 

Simon's description of him seems about right, despite the alcohol. I know its him because it just seems a little too obvious, actually. He's a big bulky guy. Not dwayne johnson big, but regular big. the kind of big to get rightfully intimidated by.  
But I'm Baz Pitch, so i say to hell with intimidation. Besides, intimidation is nothing when you could call upon hot vermillion flames on the two of your hands and could suck the blood out of a deer. I make intimidation itself look like my bitch. 

I feel my face grow red with anger -- my palms start to sweat and I'm just about to yell at him to back off when he places a hand on Snow's shoulder, and i watch with horror as he puts his lips to Simon's ear and whispers (i think its vampire senses that help me make it out)

"You wanna get out of here darling? I know a place where the two of us could get to know each other a little better." 

My throat starts to clog up.

Simon gives him a confused look. I tap the bulky guy's shoulder with my finger. He looks up at me.

i punch him. I punch him thinking of the words he whispered to Simon, taking every letter and syllable and hitting him back with it. I punch him with all the strength i have, and mind you i've got a lot of strength in me. I make sure i punch him real damn hard his grandchildren would have a bruise on their cheek and the next generation to the next generation after. 

I punch him so hard he falls backwards, then i punch him again and he topples over the counter. 

People stand up and seem to gather all around me and bulky guy here, but i don't bother with any of them -- i punch him and punch him until he's on the floor, until i see the blood trail off his nostrils. Until i see Simon Snow in the corner of my eye, eyes wide and mouth agape. Only then do i stop. 

Its been awhile since I’ve been this violent, and it feels wrong to start now. But then again, I’m not the big weird pervert who likes taking advantage of kids younger my age. Now i have one thing to think about when i want to punch something. "Hey," I look over to my side where the bartender is, eyes wide as well as everyones. I'm not that ignorant (i am indeed very ignorant) but arnet crowds like these suppose to be cheering? Were the hollywood movies all a lie? (I'm not surprised.) "You gotta leave." The bartender says, pointing towards the door. 

"Yeah, well." I look to the floor where the bulky guy is, bruised and pissed as fuck. He arches an eyebrow at me, his hand in his nose, miserably trying to contain all that blood. his eyes look at me like he either wants to slit my throat and drown me in the river or take me to his house to seduce me. Because he’s just that kind of guy.  
I'd rather he drown me in a river, thank you very much.

”I think i got that message. C'mon Snow."  
He's still standing there, dazed, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. I grab his arm and he looks at me.

Once we're out, i lightly hit him on the arm. Even that sends him stumbling back a bit. I grab his arm again. "I'm not doing this because i worry about your wellbeing, I'm doing this because it is under basic moral obligation to look after those in need."  
He grins. The fucker actually grinned at me, and of course he looks beautiful when he grins. He says "Aye aye captain," and then stumbles upon a trash can and bows his head there, vomiting the night away. 

Simon bloody Snow.


	3. Chapter 3 - Make the thoughts go away

I can't get Baz out of my head. He's there -- god, he's always there. When is he not? I can't get Baz out of my head and I keep seeing _him._ _That boy_. With Baz. I need a drink. Maybe 2 shots. Not a lot, I swear.

But when I close my eyes I keep going back to it. Im in Agatha's party, we're all sitting down in a circle. Baz is right across from me, Penny by my side and that boy somewhere along the crowd. I didn't even want to go to that stupid party.

(I just went for the food and to tell you the truth, I was quite disappointed when they were ironically lacking of it.) Some kids were doing beer pong in the other side of the room and the other half was with us in the circle.

despite my objections, I was the first to spin the bottle. When it pointed to Keris, I didn't now if I should feel relief or concern -- I glanced over at Trixie and she honestly looked amused by the thought of me kissing her girlfriend, so i took it that she wouldn't crawl on my bed tonight and slit my throat in my sleep.

Then it was Penny. the bottle pointed to Gareth, and I swear to merlin, I heard hell's flames from inside her head. (She, too didn't want to go to the party, though Agatha forced her to.) (I kinda did too. Theres no way I'm being left alone in a _party_ , even if my ex-girlfriend's there to serve as company.)

After a few more students, it was that boy's turn. I don't know his name, nor what year he's in, but none of that seems to really matter to me.

(He looks about our age actually, maybe i just haven't seen him a lot?) When the bottle pointed to Baz, I saw his lips curl in a smirk: _both their lips._ As if they shared some dark, filthy secret they found comical. 

It was Baz who stood up first, long and slow, taking his grand time as if he had a whole lot of it. He looked like he was about to devour something. Eat it alive. Thats probably what he looks like  when he's about to feed on a deer. 

It felt like everyone in the room was watching him, even the kids playing beer pong from the other side. For a second there I think he glanced at me, but the gesture was so fast I'm not sure if he actually did. 

The boy had blonde curls -- not bronze like mine. His is as blonde as Agatha's, the kind of blonde akin to buttermilk or the yellow filtered light through a window pane. Baz on the other hand is the opposite of light entirely; he's all dark edges and smooth gestures. his hair is as black as ink from a typewriter or the darkness from a canal.  
They matched.

When Baz finally got to him, he tipped his chin with a single finger -- and devoured him.

Baz was kissing a boy. The boy was kissing Baz, and both seemed to enjoy the hell out of their shared moment.   
_  
if i fling myself off a window now, would people notice?_ I thought.  _No, actually, scratch that, I’m going to bury myself alive... but if i bury myself alive I’m still going to have that memory of Baz kissing that boy with me. (guess i'll just have to fling myself off a window then)_

The memory will live there forever in my head, turning and turning around like a carousel on repeat, mocking me. Sometimes thoughts or memories could feel like conceivable things. Inanimate objects i could grab and hold on to.

Some thoughts i shove into a vault, and some i sustain and keep alive in me. Although this memory, this one bitch of a memory is untouchable. It couldn’t be contained. Its like an overgrown garden of thorns, pricking me. Hell, am i homophobic? No, i can't be. Thats such an ugly thing to have buried inside, i don't even want to consider having such hate.

Its almost repulsive -- being homophobic. It _is_ repulsive. but whenever i see Baz and that boy together i almost want to gag out my brains. if I'm not homophobic, and no I'm _not,_ then what am i?

The game went on -- Agatha's bottle pointed to Baz, and honestly I thought id be bothered by that, even Agatha glanced my way before she stood, as if she were asking for permission. (i know she would hit on some guy with or without my permission though.)

Penny even placed a hand on my shoulder for gods sake -- but tell you what, when Baz kissed that boy, my heart was beating so hard i was afraid the whole of Watford could hear it.

So why was my heart silent, my adrenaline normal when it was Agatha holding Baz? Why was i unperturbed, almost bored when Baz held on to Agatha's in return?

Why was i shaking, almost dizzy with anger when the boy with buttermilk curls placed his hand on Baz's cheek, or when he smirked like he won the lottery. When he placed his lips on Baz like a mantra, over and over and over again until they were both out of breath, until it was time for the game to carry on. 

Until i was clutching the sleeve of my own jumper as if i had to anchor myself.

Im not homophobic. I know this, because if it were me, in that boy's position...and if i were the one holding Baz... 

I think I’ve grab ahold of a thought. Or what seems to be more accurate, a thought grabbed ahold of _me_  
— And it made sense.  
Oh merlin and morgana —   
It made so much sense. How could it not make sense?

I did not care about the people starring at me when i ran out of the room.

 

\-------

 

People who've just discovered life changing bullshit either go do something about the situation or go to a bar.

I do the latter because "doing something about it" could result to utter humiliation and embarrassment. "Doing something about it" could also mean confessing to Baz, and if you think that is humiliation enough, then remind yourself that this is _Baz Pitch_.

Oh fuck. I have a crush on Basilton fucking Pitch. To be fair, i didn't head head straight for the bar. (I haven't ever been to a bar, so the thought of experiencing it is both new, thrilling and, well frightening for me.)

I first thought of going to a park, and i know all the nice, friendly parks near Watford, the ones with trees everywhere and a colourful playground where kids like to scream around in. That was a stupid fucking idea because i went out to get away from my thoughts, not surround myself in them.

Being in an open space when you want to run away from your own damn mind is kinda dumb. I didn't know what to do with myself. I sat on a bench, the one where Penny and i like to sit. Its the one overlooking all the trees.

I even bought myself an ice cream cup, but to my great revelation i found myself throwing the unfinished cup at the trash because, and get this  
\-- i wasnt feeling hungry.

If penny were here, she'd tell me i have an issue.

I think i do have an issue. Not that being a gay is an issue of course, its just that its _Baz_. Am I gay? I guess if i like Baz then, yeah, shit yeah i think i am. And then i remember Agatha and think, _well, she was nice too..._  

I ditched the park plan and i try to walk my thoughts off. The nearest bar i know is the Cupids Shot bar -- its a 5 minute walk from Watford. Penny says Watford kids go there to either get a drink or get laid -- i thought that was the whole point of bars, and Penny didn't object to that, so i guess for once i was actually right about something.

It doesn't mean I'm _doing_ something right by going to the bar itself though.

Tonight i want a drink. Maybe i'll get two shots. Not a lot i swear.

 

\-------

 

What do people order in bars?

Ive heard of scotch on the rocks, but i don't know what on the rocks mean, and despite what I'm doing, i don't want to start now.

I've also heard of a martini dry, but thats just bullshit when you're mixing all the _wet_ ingredients together.

A big, bulky guy sits beside me. Theres threads of sweat dripping down his forehead, and he's breathing in heavily, like he just ran a marathon. I think he was one of those people dancing.

He catches me starring. "oh, uh," I probably shouldn't have starred. "Sorry i --"   
"I haven't seen you around here." He says with a smile. I guess he seems friendly enough. He has a dimple too, one on his right cheek.

"Yeah, I'm new here." I smile back, but it comes out small and forced. "Actually, this is my first bar."  
He laughs out loud like I've just told him the worlds most brilliant joke. "No kidding! I bet you don't even know what to order in a bar huh?"

I think he was trying to make a  joke. When he realises that his joke was pretty ineffective, he gives me that smile of his again, and something tells me i should walk off this bar right now, but i remind myself why I'm here, sitting on a fucking bar of all places in the first place.   
  
i don't move. I don't move, even when he places his hand on top of mine, resting on the counter.

He must have felt me flinch. "My names Rhett. Allow me to give you your first drink."

He doesn't even ask for my name, but it doesn't matter, cause I didn't catch his. i think i'll just call him bulky guy. Out of the corner of my eye,i think i see Baz, but the stranger's profile changes and it turns out it isn't him.   
  
I don't know why I'm disappointed.   
  
I let bulky guy fill me in with his drinks until all conceivable thoughts seem both miles away and inches away from me.


	4. Chapter 4 - please don't cry

Saving Snow from detoxication and big perverted men was one thing.

Getting him into our dorm room was another.

 

The trip up the stairs was not easy. In fact, it was far, far from easy to the point where its surpassed 'difficult'. We might need to come up with a new word to describe the humiliating tiresome situation I've gotten myself into, because not even the word 'exhausting' could make up for this experience.

 

Exhausting is supposed to be a word for the due of hard labour. You exhaust yourself for a reason. Maybe you're building a fucking cabin, maybe a boat, who fucking knows, though whatever it is, the outcome of exhaustion is clearly supposed to result to something beneficial. Something rewarding at the very least.

 

I don't know what I'm benefiting from this. But Simon's eyes look bluer then ever when he's shitfaced, and he's looking up at me like I'm his knight and shining armour, and oh my god _i'm_ the hopeless one here. Not him. Me. I’m hopeless to its highest extent.

 

I mean, I’m a simple man, when Snow whispers things like "your eyes are prettier than the stars," and "you are hotter than the sun and damn it you know it." (apparently he keeps comparing me to celestial beings) my intestines melt to jelly and i along with it.

 

He's drunk. He obviously doesn't mean all of this. Which is sad yes, depressing for me really, but who's to say i can't enjoy this?

 

Because I'm going to enjoy this nice, easy version of him. I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.

 

When we do get into our dorm room, the first thing i do is put Simon to his bed. I am now officially in charge of his safety and wellbeing. If i were the asshole evil plotting vampire he believes me to be, i’d poison him in is sleep, maybe i’d play the vampire card and suck every ounce of blood in him. Hell, i wouldn’t even come and get him from that shithole of a club in the first place.

 

But sadly I’m not the person he believes me to be, because this is my life, and I’m simply stubborn enough to refuse everyone’s expectations of me, stubborn enough to be in charge of my own ambitions and to grip my own steering wheel. Stubborn enough to take control of my life and to make my own horrible decisions.

Stubborn enough to love someone.

 

Jesus, maybe _I_ need a drink myself.

 

"You look pretty in a man bun bazzzy" Snow says from the bed. I look down at him, glaring, refusing to acknowledge the blood rising in my cheeks. "Don't call me that." Although this time the words aren't sharper as i intended it to be. I've grown soft.

its his fault for being so damn cute.

Once i get him distracted with a playboy i have buried under my mattress, (its fine, he wouldn't remember this day anyway) I decide on bringing him some tea for when he wakes up tomorrow morning, inevitably in a giant hang over. I might as well make a use of all this softness while he's oblivious and dazed to everything thats happening right now, though i don't trust him alone on his own devices while I'm gone to get the tea itself, playboy or no playboy. so i do the next best thing: I make my own fucking tea bag.

 

Its easy when you have magik. You can grow tea leaves anywhere where theres soil -- in this case i magik up some soil myself, bringing the rich watery dirt on his desk. Some magicians take the soil on the palms of their own two hands and grow the plant right there because they think they look cool doing it -- but thats just fucking disgusting and so unsanitary, theres no way I'm doing that not, even for Snow.

 

Once a pile of soil appears on his desk i magik up some seeds, speed the process up a notch and there you have it, I've grown my own natural tea on Snow's desk. I pick the tea leaves from the plant (then i disintegrate the plant with fire once I've gotten what i needed) crunch it up using a spell from a dark nursery rhyme until the pungent aroma of it teems off our room. I get a threadbare cloth as a material for the tea bag -- light enough to float but heavy enough to secure the leaves. Then, well, I'm done. i think its peppermint. Its better than nothing.

 

I get a mug and pour some hot water (again, using magik. I don't know how normals survive without it.) and i place the hot tea on Snow's bedside table.Im not a stranger to the routine. When Mordelia was about 5 years old she'd demand me to make her chamomile tea using my magik. I messed up a lot of times (i brought up a venus flytrap instead of chamomile and if it weren't for aunt fiona and her quick senses, that giant ass thing would have eaten the whole house) but overall i like the whole ritual of it.

 

Making something out of nothing. Starting from nowhere, and ending up with something nice and pleasant, something serene.

 

I don't know how i started from making tea for my baby sister, to plotting the death of the chosen one so fast.

 

I magik up a bucket for Snow to puke on and place that right beside his bed. I don't know what to do with myself after all that. Should i bring him water too? will the tea be enough? Maybe i should just kill him. He's right there flipping my fucking playboy, I'm not even sure if he's paying attention to the pictures or just flipping the pages to do something. He's so vulnerable but thats just the thing isn't it? Im supposed to kill him when he's armed, its supposed to go down in flames with swords everywhere and blood, with scars and tears and Simon Snow with a golden crown on his head, armour and shield like the fairytales.

 

Besides, i'd let him win anyway. Of course i'd let him win. Vulnerable or not, Simon Snow manages to win me over every time. Its not fair.

 

After deciding peppermint is a good enough tea for him, i change into my pyjamas, leaving my bun be. I switch off the lights and crawl into my own bed. Maybe its for the best that he forgets all about this tomorrow. I can't allow the memory of his sworn enemy making natural tea for him live ti'll tomorrow morning anyway. And thats when he starts whispering my name. "Bazzz" he enunciates the z's, dragging it longer then necessary. he sounds like a bee.

 

I sigh. "What does the Chosen One want now?“ I ask mockingly, still on my bed and facing the wall. I hate it when people call him _the chosen one._ Its a name used for greatness and prodigies. Snow isn't built on greatness, nor is he made of prodigies.

He's just a boy. 

 

Yet I call him that anyway in spite of all the many reasons not to encourage it. I'm way too sleep deprived to care right now but as far as the night goes, that's all I've been doing lately. Caring.

 

“C’mere,” He’s already moved to make a space for me on his bed, but his face changes, and i realise he’s reconsidering his decision. Good.

 

I am about to sleep when Snow stands up and walks towards my bed. Oh merlin. When he sits down on the foot of my bed i expect myself to shout at him or shove him off. But i don’t do either of those things.

 

Instead i wait. I wait for what he’s about to do next.

 

I expected him to pull out a sword at me, but he doesn't do that, no, not tonight. He shuffles towards me and places his head on my shoulder. He looks harmless here. He looks harmless and

well, something i would gladly eat. That thought isn't exactly new to me.

 

His arms find its way around my waist, and there he squeezes me tightly like i might drift off from his hands any second.

 

“You’ve been really nice to me Bazzy,” He whispers, and i could smell the alcohol from his breathe. Underneath it is something sweet. “Maybe you’re not evil and an asshole after all.”

“Think again.” -

 

He smiles, and i could see his dimples even through all this darkness. (Vampire senses.)I try to shove him off, but i don’t push him away hard enough. I think I’m doing it on purpose.

 

“Crowley. What got you so wound up anyway?” I whisper as quietly as he does, afraid i might startle him and he’d go scurrying away from me like a kicked puppy.

 

I know the answer to my question. Everyone who attended Agatha’s stupid party does — it was because of that spin the bottle game. It was Agatha’s turn, and the universe was just smiling upon the two of us, encouraging the dynamics between Wellbelove and I. Except the universe is a bigger idiot than Snow is.

 

And now according to Snow’s brilliant texts…I’m not so sure if Agatha and I were the cause of all his problems tonight.

 

As if Snow were reading my mind, he asks, “Who’s he?”

“Who’s who?”

“The boy. The boy you kissed.”

Merry Morgana, is my theory actually correct? surely not…

I sit up, my elbows holding me up. “Snow, do you have a problem with boys kissing other boys? Is that it?”

He sits up too, but this time he actually sits up in a jolt, his back leaning on the wall. “What? No! Jesus fuck, _no!”_

 

Its relief that floods my insides. Now i sit beside him. “Well Shit Snow, then what made you leave Wellbellove's?” He looks up at me, and for a second i think i felt him leaning in, but then his eyes catches on somewhere else, distracted. “Is that a butterfly?” He points to a distance.

I look over to my shoulder. “What? Theres nothing —“

And then he kisses me.

Slow and steady, like i might break, but rough and hard, like it might the last time he’ll ever touch me like this.

 

And for a moment i think it actually might be the last time. For a moment i think of breaking out of his grasp, but instead of doing just that, I lean into his touch and close my eyes.

Im seeing stars. Actually, fuck no, this is far, far better than stars. I’m seeing the boy I’ve loved ever since i was eleven years old, in my arms, kissing me like i mattered to him.

 

He’s kissing me, and i kiss back. Of fucking course I’m kissing him back, _of fucking course_ I’m letting him push me down my mattress. I don’t even dare open my eyes, I don't plan on waking up from this lovely, pleasant dream, theres no way i am —

 

But dreams aren’t always what they seem to be. Even the most nicest ones. Reality and reason and compromise hit me like a triple slap in the face.

 

He’s drunk. I push him off me, because I’m weak and because i have to save him this one last time. Hopefully the last.

 

He tries getting to me, and the foolish part of me almost wants him too, but the better part of me gently swaps his hands away. “Simon,” I say. Im out of breath from all that snogging. Its embarrassing. “You’re drunk. You—“ His eyes look so big and blue, its effect on me is only multiplied by the moonlight. “You’re drunk. You don’t want this.” I manage to say this sternly, like I’ve got everything under control. Im not sure i do. Then again, I’m not sure what any of this really is.

 

Simon’s mouth his slightly open, like he’s about to say something. I know he isn’t though. (Mouth breather.) so it surprises me a little when he actually does say something. “You don’t want me?”

 

His voice is small and quiet —he’s been quiet lately, ever since i got him out of that bar. He looks hurt too. He looks _genuinely_ hurt, not a kicked animal kind of hurt. He's looking at me like i just delivered him the saddest news of his life, and someone's told him to remain composed through it all.

 

I can _feel_ more than see his face break though, and i think he might start crying.

 

The better part of me wants to wrap my arms around the boy with beautiful sun touched curls before me, and tell him i do i do i do want him, more than anything in the world, more than the fighting and the sneering and the teasing and _i do i do i do i want you so bad, Simon Snow, please don't cry_ —

 

But the foolish part of me repeats the same words thats been ricocheting around my head -- "You're drunk." And i say it in the same voice Simon uses, that same small and quiet voice that almost sounds apologetic. My voice is far from stern now.

 

I allow him to cuddle against me after. He still does that -- cuddle against me, i mean. Despite what just happened. I'll carry him back to his bed when he's asleep, the fucking numpty. He's lying on the same position he was seconds before: His arms around me, his head on my shoulder.

 

I unconsciously touch my lips. _Simon Snow kissed me._ I can still taste the alcohol from where his lips collided with mine. A whole bunch of feelings gather around the pit of my stomach, and i don't know what all of this is.

"Baz?"

I put my hand away from my lips. "Yeah?"

"I think I love you."

 

\-----

 

Baz Pitch is kissing me like I might disappear from his grasp. I won't though. I won't go away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;))


	5. Chapter 5 - oh fuck

I open my eyes to white bed sheets and morning light wrapped around me. It takes me a moment to register the arms wrapped around me as well. The strong arms. I look down to my naked chest. Pale arms.

Then, like an overflown stream, the night before rushes through my memories, fast and sudden it wakes me up.

Oh fuck.  
I remember drinking? And the bar. I definitely remember being in the bar and drinking a shit ton but thats as far as my sharp memory could focus on to. The rest is all blurry, all captured in a faint lens flare. Its impossible to distinguish all the small details.  
I carefully sit up.

Is this what having a hang over feels like? Like waking up, your head spinning in a merry-go-round to a room of familiarity, but looking at it in unfamiliar lenses?   
I remember Baz. I remember Baz taking me back to the dorm, though i could only recall that memory like a dream I'm trying to decipher, slowly drifting away from my grasp.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, Wait. I look to my naked chest again. Naked. Yep, I'm definitely naked, save for my boxers i thank the great mages is still on.

I think of those pale arms again. Baz's pale arms. I could recognise that careful, polished figure and shape of his arms in a room filled with people. Funny enough, when i look to my side there he is, in all his naked splendour. Bastion Pitch is beside me in bed, no clothes on, his arms holding on to me with an iron grip.

Oh fuck the great mages above indeed.

I scream. because apparently i couldn’t think of any other way to wake him up. He jumps, sitting up immediately, looking for all the world like he was just stranded on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

He see's me, and his eyes are wide as plates, his eyes wide and...confused? scared? No, fear.  
Baz Pitch looks like he's afraid.

Shit, if he's scared, then what am i?

He leaps off the bed, clutching the bed sheets to cover his skin. Its not like i haven't seen him naked before. Its just that this time, the circumstances of the situation (whatever the situation is) just makes it...awkward? What the fuck happened last night?

I stay where i am. I don't know what would happen if i moved. "D-did we..?" I don't know what to say either. Or do. What the fuck do people do in situations like these? "Baz...oh god, did we --" Before i could finish my incoherent stutters, Baz Pitch cracks. I don’t know if he’s talking to me or himself.

”You were drunk shitless and you just fucking _had_ to text me, i mean, all i wanted to do was to finish a stupid group project but you _just had_ to tell me you were drunk and this- this _guy_ with you and _of bloody course_ i had to help you of fucking course _i had to_ and you were saying these stupid, _ridiculous_ things about us, i got carried away and --" I think I'm starting to catch up.

"You got me to our dorm.." Im looking at my hands because i don't think i could look at him. He's stuttering. Baz Pitch is tripping over his words and i don’t think i could ever look at him. "I was drunk and you took me to our dorm and.." I think I'm going to get sick. I stand up. I see my shirt on the floor. I pick it up and hastily put it on. i have to get out of here. I feel the four walls enclose around me, and Its taking everything i have to not look at him.

"Simon --" He never calls me Simon. Shit, i really think I'm going to get sick. Im just buttoning my pants when he grabs my hand. I look at him with fire in my eyes. "Simon, I didn't." Is what he says. I want to believe him.

I move his hand away from mine. "Don't touch me." It comes out hoarse, a whisper. Im dressed now, but i still can't shake that vulnerability of being naked in front of him. "Simon, please. Just fucking listen to me okay i--"  
"You touched me!" He throws up his hands in exasperation. The blanket falls, and his chest is revealed, and i know i shouldn't be blushing as hard as i am now. "Simon, you really don't remember anything at all last night?" He looks mad now. He's got his eyebrows furrowed, his lips in a frown. This isn't fair. This is far far from fair. Why is he mad?

"Why would i want to remember that! This!" i gesture to the space between us. We're both standing now, facing each other, and theres a thick red line drawn separating us. Neither of us crosses that line. "Because crowley nothing happened!" He shouts, but i know he doesn't believe his own words. His words usually come out sharp and fatal, like daggers he throws at me.

Though this time its as if the steel tips of his weapons soften with every syllable he says.  
I don't know why it makes my stomach drop. As if Baz being vulnerable and afraid is a much more bigger issue than him stomping in rage, blazing like a kaleidoscope.

Shit, Baz Pitch is afraid. And I'm terrified.

Baz sees his shirt on the end of the bed and grabs at it hastily, careful not to so much as touch me. Good. He puts it on while saying “Simon, you really really don’t remember anything at all?”

Im fuming. I feel like i could breath out flames right now. “Why the fuck would i want to remember it! Your the one who came on to me first! God, Baz i can’t believe you —“ My voice shakes at the end.

I honetsly don’t know why I’m still here. “Your the one who came on to me first!” he clamours. Now he’s just fucking absurd. Far from absurd. I’d never — “Why would i ever do that!” He looks like he’s about to say something sharp and witty, but his face changes in hesitation. He almost looks _hurt_.

Its like i don’t know him. I walk out the room, feeling tears coming out in the corners of my eyes, hot and too real it hurts.

So much for being in love with him.

 

**BAZ**

Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh merry morganna, fuck. I sit back down on the bed and put my head on my hands.

Does he really not remember anything at all last night?  

So much for thinking Simon Snow is infatuated with me. That he _loves_ me. I laugh at myself because crowley _I’m so stupid_. I need to talk to him. after i put on some fucking pants, something catches my eye as i am about to go out the door.

When i notice that its the camera from when i was filming my group project i let it be.

And then i realise the red light on the side. I walk closer to it. I press _stop recording_.   
_oh. oh fuck._.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> expect late updates due to school !! if anyone wants to go to my house and kill me your welcome to !!


	6. chapter 6 - I'm sorry

**SIMON**

I arrive at breakfast later than my usual time, which translates to arriving really _really_ late. (because its me.) Cook Pritchard has to be gathering all the left overs from the canteen by now. When i walk in, i see a few students still sitting down chatting. it doesn't take me long to spot Penny, good, humble loving Penny sitting on our usual table. God bless that girl's patience. When I see two scones waiting on a plate on my side of the table, my heart melts into soft liquid matter, and just for a second that tight knot in my stomach loosens. Just for a second.

Still, I don’t know where id be without Penelope Bunce indeed.  
I sit beside her.

"I saved you some scones,” her smile falters when i don't instantly grab for them. She waves a hand up my face. "Simon? I said scones. Scones.”  
I look up at her. I must look like shit, because she brings her hand back down and frowns.

"What happened?" Her genuine motherly concern makes me feel ten times worse.

Im torn between sobbing right here and right now and keeping shut.

i do none of those things once i see Baz Pitch enter the room though. For once in his entire lifeless being he looks disheveled. Well. Almost disheveled. (because its Baz, and he's gorgeous and he's always got the best of me.)

He probably brushed his hair and applied a heavy amount of hair gel before sprinting his way to the cafeteria. He has that cold emotionless exterior he wears around the school but for _fucks sake_ i practically live with the guy, so trust me when i say when his eyes look like _that_ , his arms crossed in a protective way like _that_ , or the fact that he bites his bottom lip like _that_ , i could tell you that Baz Pitch looks like he's nervous. _Nervous_. Can you imagine?

No one would believe me. Its like he's in trouble. And damn right he is.

I quickly look away.  
I stand up, and i don’t even realise I'm standing until i already am.

I also realise I'm not hungry. Not having an appetite is such a strange feeling. Its not the matter of feeling empty, its the matter of not having something alive inside of me thats strange. And i mean that in a more literal way, i suppose. (Debatable.)

Shit, i have to sort out my feelings. Maybe thats what my appetites's full of. Feelings. I try not to glance at him and its hard. Its harder than hard. Its like refusing to look at a murder scene when its the beacon of the room, the centre of which everything cycles around.

Im still not exactly sure what happened though. Am i the one who committed the murder? Am i the one murdered? Or am i just a stupid bystander mistaking the whole scene as something else entirely?

No, i know what happened. The answer was there in his eyes when i looked at him. He knows it too. I know he knows it, and I know enough pieces to complete the puzzle by myself. Christ, I'm not that daft.

Yeah, i definitely need to sort out this jungle of feelings. Now I’m not so sure if its me eating up these feelings, or the feelings eating _me_ up.

“I’ll just see you in potions class, okay?” I say to Penny. She stands up too.  
  
“How bout the scones?” 

“mmm. I’ll eat next time.” 

“You’re not gonna eat?”  
  
"Im not feeling hungry."

My responses are quick and snappy, and its just so unlike me, the words leaving my mouth taste unfamiliar.

Penny looks a bit shock too.

"You're not hungry. Simon Snow is not hungry. I simply refuse to believe it." She says her questions like statements, something unjustifiable said to be justified.

Its all odd. "Well, keep one in your bag anyway,” She says, already grabbing a scone, wrapping it in a napkin and putting it on my backpack.

"You're going to regret whatever it is you call 'not feeling hungry'" I roll my eyes and thank her. She quirks up an eyebrow.  
  
I leave and when i pass by him, i hear a soft whisper from a voice undoubtedly his. Just one word. One word and i could have stopped and looked at him. “Simon.” Its not a hiss. Its a plea. I don’t stop walking.

I swear, i could feel the lingering touch he has on me from a night before i don't even remember. Actually, 'remember' seems like a bleak word to use.  
Understand then.  
A night i don't even understand.

 

\------

 

**BAZ**

The day goes on like days are supposed to. Maybe if I'm powerful enough id stop time itself just to talk to Snow.

I would do it. It hurts me because i know id do it.  
Fuck, i think at this point id do anything just to fucking explain myself to him. Whenever i'd look at him, glance at him, so much as think of the git (and dammit i think of him every second, every minute and every moment) he never seizes to snare at me. To look at me like I'm a villain.

And yeah sure, i _am_ the villain of this story, I'm the guy who gets to kill the protagonist. But when he looks at me its like I'm a _villain_. Im a _bad guy._ Not just some fantasy character in a chaptered book written by the Grimm brothers. 

I never wanted to be a bad guy in this fucked up story.

The professor's words fly over my head -- "Rose petals are one of the most sentimental ingredients in the potion, that and, take note of this, fairy's wine."

I don't even know what kind of potion the professor is discussing.  
I glance at Snow. he's at the very front of the class, and I'm at the very back. He doesn't seem to be taking down notes either. He's just starring down at his lap, shoulders slouched like he's had the longest day of his life. Its just 10:13.

Although i don't seem to be taking down notes either anyway.  
This is just complete madness.

I think of anything but potions and simmering cauldrons. Instead, I think of bronze curls spread across white bedsheets, i think of pale blue eyes looking into my mediocre grey eyes, Snow's mouth on mine.

I think of tawny skin. I think of the abundance of moles around his abdomen. I think of the sounds he made last night.

I think of clenched sheets, of closed eyes lids, of gasping breathes --

I think of Simon Snow, and I've got too much of him inside my head. Too much of him, its bad for me.

If i were a crappy wannabe poet, id say Snow's a drug, but then id be wrong. Drugs are bad for you. Snow is a fucking happy pill. Wait, no, he's not a pill. He's not something you consume when you want to feel something.  
He's just a boy. Clenched fists, pink lips, smooth collarbones --

The bell rings, and its only because of its loud, shrieking sound do i jump out of my thoughts. People start to stand, grabbing backpacks, gathering papers. I hear footsteps as people walk out the classroom.

I look to Snow's side of the room to see if he's still seated there, and I'm just about to stand up, about to walk over to his side of the classroom, about to grab him by the shoulders, look right into his eyes and -- but he's already gone.

Strong arms, soft eyes, warm giggles --  
Simon Snow is just a boy. And I'm just -- well.  
Im just what becomes of boys when they aren't entirely human. A monster, you could say. The bad guy. I'm the bad guy.

 

\-------

Snow didn't even look at me after potions class.

Not in linguistics, not in magical history, nothing. Even when I'm in the same room as him, theres entire oceans between us, and whenever i try to swim across it i drown. Deep deep down, a never-ending void. (Apparently you don't need water to feel like your drowning.)  
Something clenches tight in the middle of my chest. I itch to clench that thing in my chest right back. Yearn for it to just disappear.

I sit down with Dev and Niall for lunch, and all of this, this everyday ritual, it just seems too mundane for me. Too normal. Like nothing even happened. Its all odd.

"Baz. Baz? Are you even listening?" I look to Niall and Dev. Ive been picking my meatloaf with a fork. Im not particularly hungry. Niall and Dev are staring at me like I'm supposed to say something intellectual or eye opening. Am i supposed to say something? 

"What do you want?" 

“We asked if you wanted to hang with Daniel.” I quirk up an eyebrow at Dev.

“Who the fuck is Daniel?”

“Daniel? You don’t remember Daniel? The good looking one? The one with the sparkly eyes? The one with — ” 

Niall elbows Dev in the gut and mutters something incoherent under his breath. Dev just looks at him offended. “The one you kissed in the spin the bottle game that one night.” Niall clarifies.

Oh. Yeah, i guess i remember him. I say _“I guess”_ because when i try to recall Daniel, my mind flickers to bronze curls and red cherry lips. Does Daniel have bronze curls and red cherry lips? Sike, he doesn’t, because his name isn’t Simon bloody Snow. I feel like a bitch and a half for not even remembering what he looks like, but thats at the bottom of my self deprecating list right now.

I look over to where Snow is sitting with Penny. He didn’t even so much as look at me in breakfast. I feel like i should walk over to him.

Someone smacks me on the arm. I look to Dev with narrowed eyebrows and with what i hope is daggers in my eyes. “What the fuck —“

Dev stands up before i could spit venom on him and shakes someone in the hand.

“Daniel! This is Baz! You remember him right?” A guy with hair as white as milk smiles at me. his cheeks turn pink. Is he blushing? Before i could further investigate this small fact, he looks to Niall and Dev.

“I thought you guys were gonna eat with me?”

“Yeah,” Dev looks at me with a face i think says ‘yeah you motherfucker, eat shit.’ “but someone’s being little grouchy now huh?”

Its taking up all of my elegance to not punch the dimwit in the nose. I sigh instead. “You guys go ahead, i have to catch up on some assignments.”

“Assignments? Didn’t we finish everything —“ Niall stops short. His eyes go wide, and his mouth opens a little. He kinda looks like a fish. A fish who just came to the conclusion that life is meaningless and the ocean is just one big open space of water and shark may as well come and eat — “The video!”

My thoughts disintegrate to ash and goes into overdrive. Does he know? Oh fuck how did he — “I completely forgot about the video assignment for potions class! Oh god, sorry i didn’t help you with that, Baz. Isn’t it due on Wednesday? Crowley, thats tomorrow right? I —“

“You know what,” I stand up. Oh, my poor mind. its certainly been through a lot lately indeed. “don’t mention it. Its fine. Im practically done.”

“Oh. Okay. Guess we’ll just catch up with you later.” I walk off before i could reply. I don’t know if its just me, but i see Daniel frown on my peripheral vision. I can also see Snow picking on his plate, starring at it like its something alien to him.

My chest clenches tight again.

 

**SIMON**

When i open the door and see Baz, just there, sitting down on the end of his bed, his head hanging low like he’s been waiting for me all this time —

i don’t know. Something just cracked inside of me.  
Something cracked, and its like gasoline is overflowing my system.

“Simon —“

“I don’t want to hear it.”

He’s walking towards me, and I’m walking backwards until my back hits the door. the tears I’ve been holding back finally come spilling all over my face.

Miraculously, Baz takes a step back from me, as of the sight of me crying is a scene he couldn’t bear watching. “I—“

His hand finds my cheek, and wipes away a tear with his thumb. I let him do it. Crowley i don't fucking know why i let him do it.

“I’m sorr—“ I turn the door knob and slam the door shut before he could follow me.

I think i'll just stay with Penny.

 

**DANIEL**

He didn’t join me for lunch. Well, of course he didn’t join me for lunch, that would be too easy.  
But i love a challenge.  
And Baz Pitch certainly delivers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kNOW its been a month but fuck u school is a bitch and a half. NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE UP GOD KNOWS WHEN hOPE U ENJOY SO FAR IF U DONT THEN THATS FINE FAM U DO U


	7. chapter 7 - just wandering around

**SIMON**

 

The air is always damp in the forest. I don't know why -- I'm sure theres a scientific explanation, but if all of us would know the scientific explanations to everything we'd probably all kill each other.

It doesn't matter. Leaves crunch and break under the soles of my shoes. I have my hands shoved in the pockets of my hoodie, and i don't know where the fuck I'm going. 

Hell, its like i could still feel his lips on mine. I could still feel fingers, wrapping around my curls. I feel lips -- all around me. And see, the thing is i don't mind. I don't mind if theres fingers twirling around my curls. I don't mind if theres kisses along my neck, if i feel his soft kisses around me. I don't mind.

I don't mind if its him. if its Baz's lips. Baz's hands. Baz kissing me senseless -- practically breathing me in.

 

Maybe if it were someone else i'd kill them.

And, the funny thing is, even in my drunk, irrational stupor i knew he wouldn't hurt me. Not in that way. Which is odd because we've been at each others throats for 6 fucking years. 

Of course, i can't recall the sorid details of that night, but one little detail i do know, might never get off my mind, was that. He'd never hurt me. I actually think he said it himself. Fuck.

I don't think i'd hurt him either.

 

If I’m being honest, i would have wanted him regardless. Honestly, if only i wasnt _intoxicated_ and if i could actually _remember_ that night —

If only it was real to him.

Because ’d let him kiss me again and again. (and again.)

(and i’d kiss back)

 

I kick over a pebble. Besides, it was probably just a game to him. I was an opportunity, and he took it. So much for having a crush on Baz Pitch huh. More leaves crunch under my shoes as i walk, wandering around the forest. I stop and lean on the nearest tree trunk and sigh.

 

Baz Pitch also had the opportunity to hurt me. He couldn’t have apologised. He could have played my heart like the fucking king he is. He could have fucking ruined me. 

but he didn’t.

There was that golden opportunity — and he didn’t take it.

Seeing him in the dorm room, head hung low, hands clenched tight against one another in anxiety —  _That_ ruined me. _But goddammit Baz, the one time i have you where i want you and you wouldn’t even make me remember it._ I hear birds chirp from a distance. Christ, i must be deep in the forest now huh.

 

I think the deeper i get into the forest the deeper i get into my thoughts. Its messy. A groan escapes my throat. 

 

Yep, I’m in love with Basilton Pitch.

 

Thats the one thing I’m really fucking mad about. Not the fact that I’m _in love_ with him, I’m not even mad that its _him_ i fell for. Im just mad that i didn’t realise it sooner. Because maybe then it’d be easier. No tension. No swords or wands out, just us, the inexplicable, impossible concept of us. That could have been nice.  
Theres this tight clench in the middle of my chest.

 

I love Baz Pitch, and i think I’ve always been. I think its why I’ve been avoiding him ever since that night, because the notion of him was right there, he was _right  fucking there_ and he was just impossible, he was _beautiful_ and _nice and everything all at once —_

I can’t run from this. Theres no way I’m running away from this. I can’t pull it off any longer.

Im in love with Baz Pitch.

 

I continue to walk around the forest, thinking, wondering about this thought. Im in love with Baz Pitch. I laugh. I can’t help it. Im in love with _Baz_ fucking _Pitch_. Shit, now I’m really laughing. I cover my mouth. I must look silly, practically out of my mind. I wonder what the mage would say when he sees me, laughing in the middle of a forest for christ sake.

 

Feelings are weird. But i guess if that feelings _love_ — why would i want to turn a blind eye on that? (Or some other cheesy line like that.) I ruffle my curls around (its another nervous habit) and i look around the forest for awhile. Its peaceful. Its quiet. More birds chirp around, and yellow light spills through soft leaves. It smells like the last remains of a heavy rain and all. (This is exactly the kind of spot id pick for a picnic)

 

Well, shit. I have to face him sooner or later, and now seems like the best option.

 

Im about to head back to Watford when i hear the leaves crunching again. Im not moving though, and those footsteps aren't mine.

I turn around and I think i see a boy walking towards me.

 

"Hey, what are you doing here?" The voice says, and the boy with the blonde curls smiles.

 

 

**DANIEL**

 

I hate the forest. I hate nature itself. Too much bugs. Everything is everywhere and you don't know exactly what that every _thing_ is. You don't know if that fungi is something else entirely, or if thats moss if thats fungus, or if that brown mess on the ground is shit or dirt. Everything is all messy.

 

I drain the last remains of blood from the deer. When I’m done, i drop the carcass on the ground and wipe my mouth with a sleeve, grabbing a packet of cigars from my jean pocket and taking one out. I Inhale. Fucking tasteless.

 

Honestly, I would have bought a new pack of cigars if i just had enough dough with me.It almost depresses me, these cigars. I keep inhaling it anyway. Its not like anything else in this world could possibly make me less depressed out of my mind than i already am. Well, one thing would…

 

If i get that Pitch boy on my side, the pack would be fucking invincible. Ruthless. Who knows what we'd be capable of with that kind of advantage? Un fucking stoppable is the picture. I gotta hand it to him anyhow -- practically thought he'd kill himself by now. He looks even more depressing than _I_ do in a bad day --when I saw him in the catacombs, draining _rats_ for fuck's sake. I bet the bastard hasn't even tasted human blood (nor mages) his whole lifeless existence. I wouldn't be surprised.

 

And then i hear someone laughing somewhere around the forest. Pretty damn near me, actually. I swear to god if its another goblin...or worse a fucking fairy --

 

I drop the cigar and extinguish it with the heel of my shoe.

 

I walk around, trying to get closer, following the laughs. Its more like a giggling, really. Looks like I’m getting dessert.

 

I go on over to that tree trunk and sneak a look at my next meal.

Oh, this is just rich.

 

What is the Chosen One doing in the forest? I don’t smell the mage around, or anyone else around for that matter. Seems like he’s alone. Alone and probably deranged. Why the fuck was he laughing?

 

I don't plan on drinking his blood though -- i think he could be used as something far more useful.And anyway, he is Baz's roommate...

 

I walk over to him and he seems to hear me coming. Poor boy looks startled. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

 

You would’ve thought he’d seen a ghost or something. Unlucky for him I’m a vampire. seeing a ghost would just be his luck when he’s out here in the forest all alone. All sorts of creatures can wander around here. The Chosen one out of all should know.

 

“Just..wandering around.” He answers, eyebrows furrowed. Then, “You’re the guy from Agatha’s party.” Ah yes. That party. Wasn’t too bad for my tastes if I’m being honest, but if the fucking Chosen One wouldn’t have caused a scene and run off, Baz wouldn’t have been distracted. I needed his attention.

 

I play nice. “You remember me huh?”

He scoffs in response, rolls his eyes. Wow, rude.

“Yeah. I remember you. Listen, I’m gonna head back to Watford now —“

“Oh would you mind if id walk with you? I was about to head out myself, see?”

“uh —“ I don’t give him the time to answer, as I’m already striding ahead of him. Its not like he has anywhere else to go anyway. His only way his to Watford.

 

He follows behind me, and i let him catch up. You would’ve thought he’d trip. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“Well y’know,” I look at him. “Wandering around.” I wink at him just for the hell of it. He doesn’t seem to be passing the joke around though , because he looks like he’d rather shoot himself twice then be around me any longer.

 

I still need him though. After walking in silence, i say “So you’re Simon Snow arent you?” He nods. “You’re Baz’s roommate then?”

He purses his lips then. Licks them, like he’s contemplating a math problem. He swallows, and its this whole scene with his adams apple and all. I mentally note this down. He seems tenser than usual. Surely this must mean something.

 

“Why do you ask?” He asks, trying to be polite and all. That killed me.

“Oh nothin.” Again, we walk in silence. We’re almost in Watford though, and i need to get some sort of lead from him, so i cut the bullshit. “See, I’m just hoping to get closer to him. I don’t know, he seems like a pretty neat guy, don’t you think?” Poor guy wouldn’t look at me in the eye. he’s just looking down at his feet. I push further, try to make up some sort of narrative. “If I’m being honest with you — and don’t tell him — i find I’m a bit infatuated with Baz. He just seems like my type. So if you happen to know, lets say, how to get closer to --"

 

He stops in his steps and i swear to god i nearly tripped over myself. He faces me, and theres a glint in his eyes. "I don't know what your deal is, but whatever your planning, stop it. And, _i don't know_ , stop following him around." He walks away.

 

**SIMON**

 

Theres a twinge of jealousy in my stomach. One more second with this guy and I think I might combust. I'd honestly rather be in the dorm room than in this situation.

I walk away, hands in the pockets of my hoodie. I don't have a great sense of direction, so when i bump into someone along my way, i mutter an apology and continue my way. 

 

**DANIEL**

  
Simon bumps into someone and continues walking. That someone walks towards me, and I'm convinced that someone might be another Watford student wandering around. 

 

But its just Tony. "Have you got any leads on Pitch," he asks more as a statement than a question. I answer no.

"How bout that guy over there," He's referring to the Chosen one.

"Nah Just someone with a temper. I don't think he's anyone important to Baz anyway."

"You sure the _Chosen One_  wouldn't have some sort of lead?"

"Im telling you, he's just a kid with a temper."

He drops the topic. "Right, well. I'm done feeding, lets head back. I can't fucking wait to get out of here."

 

**SIMON**

 

Im near the dorm when I hear voices inside. Multiple voices.

"I swear to Merlin himself, nothing fucking happened, Bunce." Baz's voice. He sounds hurt. I don't know what to make of that.

"I don't care if nothing happened, you _hurt_ Simon!"

"I'd never hurt him."

 

Theres a scoff. Then Agatha's voice, "Says the one who's been plotting his downfall since first year. I bet Dev and Niall were part of this."

"Why would we be a part of this!"

Penny's voice again. "Baz. You hurt Simon. Hell, I couldn't even find him anywhere!" Theres the sound of a chair being pushed back and loud footsteps. Crowley, these walls are thin. 

"If something actually fucking happened i'll curse you, Basilton Pitch, I'll cur--"

"Nothing happened _and I can prove it!_ "

That gets my attention.

 

I open the door. Dev and Niall are seated on Baz's bed, Agatha on mine, and Penny looks like she's inches away from actually cursing Baz.

And Baz is holding a video tape.

And I think everything clicks.

 

I take it back, I rather be in the forest with a creep than in this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's back! For those who are still reading, I can't thank you enough.
> 
> I haven't been updating for awhile (for fucks sake its been a year.) a lot of stuff happened the past months, and id be lying if i said i didn't abandon this Fic whoops. Id also be lying if i said i didn't miss this story, and if i didn't already do a whole goddamn story board for it and i may as well write it all.  
> the next chapter will be up next week. Stay tuned ;))
> 
> (did u notice that i based Daniel's character off of Holden Caulfield yet)

**Author's Note:**

> this concept is loosely based off of that one friends episode and @creativitear on tumblr and their post about that drunk simon AU


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